


What's In A Name?

by Popcorn_Lover



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Not Beta Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-03 19:16:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8726989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Popcorn_Lover/pseuds/Popcorn_Lover
Summary: Ah, young love, so powerful that it can make them fall in love without ever meeting each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing of Sherlock BBC and this story is loosely based on Your Name, a Japanese anime film.

Molly Hooper rubbed her eyes and mumbled sleepily, “What a realistic dream…” Half awake, the teenager found her way to the bathroom and began to get ready for school. Fearing that she would be late, Molly hastily finished her breakfast and rushed out of the house but not before giving her father a kiss on his cheek, as always. “Bye, Daddy.”

“Have fun, kiddo,” Mr Hooper said while kissing his daughter’s forehead. He temporarily lifted his eyes from _The Daily Telegram_ and muttered to himself, “Puberty, perhaps? Yesterday she left for school without saying anything, not even a ‘Good morning’ and today she’s back to normal again. Mhm, puberty.” The man concluded and went back to his reading until it was time to go to work.

Molly was walking in the hallway when her best friend, Meena caught up with her. “Hullo, Molls. Are you yourself again?” Meena pulled on Molly’s arm then scanned her from head to toe with a serious expression. “What are you talking about, Mee?” The pair resumed walking to their classroom while Meena explained, or at least tried to. “Well, it just seemed that you were _really_ not yourself yesterday. Your ponytail was a mess and you scowled, Molls, I don’t think I ever seen you scowled before. You were even rude to Mrs Allen and very nearly got a detention for it though I totally understand why you did it; she can be an arse sometimes.”    

“What?!” Molly shouted and immediately covered her mouth when she felt all eyes were on her. “Are you sure that the person you are talking about is me?” Befuddled by what were supposedly her actions, Molly wanted to have a double confirmation. “Exactly. Anyway, it looks like you are back to yourself again so let bygones be bygones, eh?” Meena comforted her best friend and slung her arm around Molly’s shoulder as the bell rang, signalling the start of first lesson.               

“I hope I will not be hearing anymore of your sassy remarks, Miss Hooper?” So much for letting bygones be bygones. Even though Molly did not feel like it was her fault for she truly could not remember doing such a thing, Molly still apologised for the sake of appeasing the teacher. The last thing she wants is to be in Mrs Allen’s blacklist for the rest of her school year.

School sucks.

With a sigh, Molly flipped through her notebook and stopped at a page when she saw someone wrote ‘Who Are You?’ on it. Molly looked around, thinking it was a prank but quickly dismissed the ridiculous idea as the other kids in school barely noticed her.

Could the day get any weirder?  

 

* * *

 

_Two days later_

Sherlock Holmes got out of bed and stood in front of the mirror. The reflection that stared back at the teenager was not himself, it was a girl roughly the same age as him. "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” As a budding consulting detective, the world’s first and probably only, Sherlock came to the logical conclusion that he must have switched bodies with this girl. Said effect usually only last for a day, from the moment they woke up till they went to sleep, and it appeared to take place approximately twice or thrice a week.  

With the curiosity of both a scientist and quite frankly, a hot-blooded youth, Sherlock fondled with her breasts. “Kiddo, you are going to be late if you don’t…” The rest of Mr Hooper’s sentence floated away as his daughter, who was actually Sherlock, turned around with her hands still cupping them. Closing the door, Mr Hooper scratched the back of his neck which was becoming warm from embarrassment after witnessing that scene, asked quietly, “That was puberty too, right?”

Being a single father is hard, especially when you are raising a daughter.

Molly woke up at around the same time, and feeling somewhat odd, she sat up before looking down. The teenager blamed on her sleepiness hence the lack of thinking when she touched the bulge in the pants. It twitched and Molly hurriedly removed her hand but was unable to tear her eyes away because it felt real, too real. Before she could determine if this was also a dream or the alternate universe, the need to relieve herself was overwhelming so with a face akin to the colour of a tomato, Molly entered the bathroom. After the deed was done, she exited and blinked a couple of times, “That was…different.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I was not too awkward in writing the perspective of teenagers. Please enjoy!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing of Sherlock BBC and this story is loosely based on Your Name, a Japanese anime film.

Sherlock turned back to the mirror and wondered if what he just did in front of that girl’s father was a bit ‘not-too-good’. He shrugged with nonchalance and started to change out of the pajamas. Her long locks of silky brown hair were an utter hindrance to Sherlock so he clumsily tied them up into a loose ponytail. The teenager blew out an exhausted sigh; women are a troublesome lot of creatures.

Mr Hooper cleared his throat, a common tactic used by men trying to pretend that everything is fine as Sherlock went down the stairs and made his way towards the dining table. While he was eating his cereal, the older man folded the newspaper into half and got up from his chair. When Mr Hooper walked past Sherlock, he bent down to kiss him on the forehead. The teenager was startled by the sudden physical contact and both of them froze for about five seconds.

Sherlock stood up and decided that now would be the right time to leave for school. “Bye, Molly-bear.” _So this body I’m residing in is called Molly huh?_   He scoffed lightly at the silly nickname. Sherlock twisted his lips at the man’s dejected face and after a brief hesitation; he then answered softly, “Goodbye.” The teenager rolled his eyes as he watched how Mr Hooper’s gloomy expression was replaced with a bright smile because of his mere ‘goodbye’. That man reminded Sherlock of his mother, so easily pleased by their child’s small gestures.

Luckily for him, the school was nearby so Sherlock had no problem in finding his way and being a conscientious student, Molly wrote down very clearly her daily schedule of lessons which meant it was also not that hard for him to go to the right classroom. Unluckily for him, Molly happened to have a best friend and it took all of Sherlock’s control to not literally push Meena away whenever she felt the need to tug his hand, lean on his shoulder or stand unnecessarily close to him for no reasons at all.      

However, after Redbeard was put to sleep, Sherlock for a long time did not really have someone who he could call as his friend so apart from the fact that Meena is talkative, of average intelligence and gets overly excited by the smallest of things, it felt nice to have one. A friend who would stay by your side, protect you from less-than-friendly schoolmates and most importantly, like you even if the real you was far from perfect.  

On the other hand, Molly was having an internal battle with herself but she also knew that she could not stay here forever. At some point of time, she would need to step out of the room. Finally, Molly gathered enough courage and walked down the stairs gingerly. “Come Sherlock, have your breakfast before you go to school.” _What an interesting name, Sherlock._ Like a submissive kitten, the teenager complied and did not notice the peculiar look on Mrs Holmes’ face.      

Molly placed her empty bowl on the basin and purely out of habit, kissed the older woman’s cheek, “Goodbye.” After realizing what she had done, Molly looked away bashfully. Mrs Holmes recovered swiftly and beamed, “Goodbye, my dear.” Since this was either a dream or the alternate universe, Molly could not see the harm in hugging her and did just that. Mrs Holmes was initially surprised at her son’s abnormal behaviour but she was definitely not going to question him about it. It had been a while since she got to hug her baby.

_So this is how it feels like, to be hugged by your mother._

Molly’s memories with her own mother were abruptly cut off when she was at a young age and slowly fading due to the harsh currents of time. The hug with Sherlock’s mother, for a short moment, managed to slightly refresh those precious memories. The teenager went to school with a lingering smile.

Yet her good mood did not last for long. For Molly, it was like the first day of school again. First day of school should never be relived for obvious reasons – the annoying butterflies in your stomach, knowing practically no one, unfamiliar surroundings and the list could go on. Fortunately, Molly was considered smart and was able to keep up during class. Unfortunately, Sherlock was not a popular kid in school, ostracized even and she found out the hard way during lunchtime.

The leader of the group grabbed Molly by the collar and dragged her to the back of the schoolyard. He pushed Molly against the cement wall and demanded fiercely, “Freak! Did you forget what I told you the last time? The canteen is off-limits for you! Or are you itching for another beating?” That would explain the bruises on his body which Molly took note of when she was changing.

As the bully raised his fleshy fist, Molly shut her eyes, anticipating the imminent pain when a hand shot out and blocked the punch that was about to land on her stomach. A tall and lean boy spoke with distaste, “Don’t you think it’s a little unfair that there are so many of you against one person?” The bully let go of Molly and focused his attention on the newcomer instead.

He cracked his massive hands and said tauntingly, “Are you asking for a fight?” but before the bully could pull back his arm; he was already on the ground with a bleeding nose. The rest of the group dispersed within seconds, trembling with fear. “Bunch of cowards,” The nameless hero smirked and walked away. “Wait!” Molly ran up to him, “Thank you.” He threw a casual glance at her, “I used to get bullied so I know how you feel.”

Perhaps it was the adrenaline rush acting when Molly boldly put out her hand, “I’m...Sherlock.” With a devil-may-care smile, he shook it, “Name’s Victor.” Molly thought to herself that she might just make a new friend already.    

Sherlock fell backwards onto the bed after a tiring day at school. And he thought _his_ classmates were slow. The teenager showered and, in his not-so-humble opinion, did Molly a huge favour by finishing her homework. With lots of time to spare, Sherlock had a tour of her house. To entertain his brain, the future consulting detective made the Hooper family into a mock case and the main objective was to discover as much information about them as possible without the help of Mr Hooper. It would be strange for ‘Molly’ to ask her father about their family history anyway.    

Sherlock already determined that Molly's an only child; Mr Hooper a single parent and at the moment not dating anyone nor actively seeking for a new partner. What about former Mrs Hooper? That would be the tricky bit. He stopped in front of the fireplace where the mantel top was brimming with family photos. Sherlock noticed that the photos consistently showcased all three family members but as Molly grew up, only she and her father were featured in them. Another point worth noting was that there were more of older photos than recent ones.  

“You got her eyes and hair, Molly. Your mother was gorgeous, her family and friends never could figure out why she chose me. Lucky me,” Mr Hooper chuckled genially but he could not fully conceal the unexpected air of melancholy surrounding him. Sherlock looked at the man and drew out more deductions.

_Referred to her in past tense, usage of sentimental words and tone, a drop in the frequency of photo taking._

_Not former Mrs Hooper but late _ _Mrs Hooper._

Sherlock believed that he was fortunate enough to not lose anyone close to him with the sole exception of Redbeard so naturally, he was uncomfortable with the topic. Death was not something teenagers would often think about when the ultimate end seemed so far away, a vague and abstract concept where there were more pressing matters such as relationships, friends, school and in his case, how to become a great consulting detective.

Sherlock thought that a nod would be the appropriate response and as he was about to return to his room, the teenager succumbed to his boundless curiosity, “Did you ever think of…finding someone else?” The older man smiled a little sadly, “I hope you will never understand the reason why I did not, darling.” As that would mean for his daughter to lose someone she loved so dearly in the first place.

When Molly woke up the next day in her own room, she still held on to the idea that yesterday was simply a dream until she saw the words written on her arm that proved otherwise, 'This Is Not A Dream'. Shaken, Molly retrieved the notebook from her school bag and the last few written pages were full of what appeared to be detailed personality analysis of various people ranging from herself to Mrs Allen. There were even drafts regarding the steps in conducting advanced scientific experiments and long strings of complex chemical equations.

Things that she could never come up with.

“N-no wonder…We switched bodies…Wait a minute, does that mean he saw...” Molly’s arms reflectively wrapped around her chest and she was so mortified, her mouth hung open. The notebook that was dropped to the carpet floor revealed Sherlock’s haughty reply, ‘Yes, I saw them and I presumed that you saw mine too so let’s call it even, shall we?’

“That shameless git!”          

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Youth is wasted on the young, or is it?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing of Sherlock BBC and this story is loosely based on Your Name, a Japanese anime film.

To his great dismay, Sherlock learnt that Molly brazenly made a few drastic changes to his life. His mother was currently under the beautiful illusion that she had the carte blanche in terms of hugging and kissing her youngest son. To top it off, he also got a _friend_ now. If Mycroft caught wind of this, he would never stop making fun of him about it.

During one of Mrs Holmes’ displays of motherly affections, out of nowhere Molly entered Sherlock’s mind and how she lost her mother at such a tender age. “If you must, hug and kiss me when I’m not myself. Only when I’m not myself, Mummy.” A brilliant move killing two birds with one stone; at least that was what he believed.

Since Victor knew Jujutsu and was also willing to teach him, Sherlock thought it would be benefical in building his credentials as a consulting detective. His job scope would include dealing with dangerous criminals so knowing how to protect himself would come in handy. Nevertheless, if this switching of bodies was to continue then establishing ground rules would be a must. This resulted in starting the practice of leaving messages in each other’s notebook and some of them were as followed.

From Sherlock:

  * Stop making friends on my behalf
  * Stop hugging and kissing my mother unless it was a life or death situation
  * Stop smiling like a fool
  * Stop blushing; Victor thinks I’m falling in love with him
  * Stop being NICE to EVERYONE!!



From Molly:

  * Stop rebutting everything Mrs Allen said
  * Stop scowling and learn how to tie a ponytail
  * Stop being so rude
  * Stop flinching every time my dad kissed you
  * Keep your HANDS to YOURSELF!!



Blushing faintly, Sherlock grinned at the latest message that Molly left for him. Unbeknown to the teenager, the smile on his face widened at the image of her getting mad at him. “What are you thinking about, Sherly? You look like a lovesick puppy. Say, don’t tell me you are thinking about _me_?” Sherlock could feel the vein in his forehead throbbing in exasperation. “How many times do I have to tell you that my name is Sherlock, not Sherly? And no, I’m not thinking about you, Victor.”

It was apparent that his friend was not listening to what he was saying at all, “Cos you are _not_ thinking about me, Sherly,” and even winked at him. God forbid if Victor was going to accept ‘his undying devotion since they were destined to be together as foretold by the heavenly stars’. Sherlock sincerely hoped that he was merely joking.    

The similar situation was also taking place with Molly. Meena insisted that her best friend was secretly dating while Molly’s vehement denials, occasional sappy grins to herself and love notes that she tried to keep from her just further convinced Meena that her hunch was right.

Victor and Meena both witnessed how much they had changed within the short span of time. Sherlock toned down on his sarcasm, was less rude and smiled more in general. Overall, it could be said that he softened up to a certain extent whereas Molly became less shy thus more confident and outgoing. Others, in particular boys, began to take more notice of her but Molly was blissfully oblivious which was not surprising, considering that all she could think of was her mysterious boyfriend.    

Such dramatic changes could only occur in the presence of one thing, love.

If they could just see it.

If they would just admit it.

 

* * *

 

When Sherlock woke up in Molly’s body, the teenager had long gotten used to the experience but what worried him was that he awoken with tears in his eyes. The only logical conclusion would be that last night Molly cried in her sleep. The knowledge troubled Sherlock and the depth of his concern confused the future consulting detective. The most effective way of tackling a problem was to do it in a systematic manner. Deal with the obvious question first.

Why did she cry?

The Molly he knew would not cry over nothing so what the bloody hell happened? It must be something serious and the one person who could affect Molly this much would be Mr Hooper. Losing her mother at the age when she needed her the most strengthened the bond with her father but the stronger the relationship, the more vulnerable it was. Being a Saturday would mean that Sherlock had all day to uncover the root cause but whether he could solve Molly’s problem would be another matter altogether.    

The teenager took in the newly prescribed bottles of medications lying on Mr Hooper’s bedside table and after a thorough rummaging of his study room, an invading but necessary act; he came across a medical report. Sherlock read through it quickly and even though he was not a doctor, the fact was staring right at him. Molly’s father was ill and probably dying soon. The realization hit him harder than he was prepared for. Sherlock could not solve Molly’s problem. In life, there would always be problems that a consulting detective, future or actual, could never solve.

Mr Hooper was found looking out of the window. The spark normally present in his eyes was gone and he rubbed his forehead tiredly. Imagine him receiving the shock of his life when doctors told him that he suffered a rare and incurable medical condition. Ironically, it was supposed to only be a routine check-up for him. If one could not cry then one should smile. He was always careful to appear cheerful in front of his daughter. She depended on him but he let her down for he was going to leave her. What a terrible father he was.    

Sherlock interrupted his train of thoughts when the teenager spoke out loud, “I know you wanted to be the pillar for her but you don’t need to pretend in front of _me_. Like it or not, we humans are born with emotions and sometimes we can get swayed by them…What I’m trying to say is, it’s alright to look sad, you don’t have to hide your emotions from me...I’m rubbish at this, am I?”

Mr Hooper shook his head and asked outright, “You are not Molly, aren’t you? My poor daughter, she’s going to be all by herself. I once told Molly that I will never leave her and now I’m breaking that bloody promise. What do I do? I can’t protect her anymore; I can’t stay by her side anymore…” A sense of helplessness threatened to consume Sherlock as he watched the older man broke down with abandonment. He suspected that this could be the first time Mr Hooper cried since his diagnosis which no doubt felt like a death sentence to him.

Sherlock put his arms around the man’s torso, “I’m really sorry, truly I am.” That was what people would do under such circumstances right? Hugging the person in need of comfort? If only he could do the same for Molly. Tears dampened his neck but the teenager did not pull back in disgust. The logic behind his actions was that if Mr Hooper could cry his heart out in front of him then maybe, just maybe Molly would not see her father looking sad when he thought no one could see him.  

As the day came to an inevitable end, Sherlock unwillingly closed his eyes when he lied on Molly’s bed. He wanted to leave a message for her but what to say?

_Sorry that you and your father had to go through this shit?_

_Sorry that your father is dying?_

_Sorry that you are going to be an orphan?_

For once, Sherlock was at a loss for words.

The next two weeks went on without them switching bodies again, not even once. The probability of it ceasing permanently was high and Sherlock should be elated but the teenager became so uneasy and grumpy that Victor commented about it. “Did you have a fight with your girlfriend? Be the bigger man and just apologize.” Irritated, Sherlock muttered, “She’s not my girlfriend and we did not fight.” As if that was not enough, his mother popped into his room one day and said cryptically, “Go and find her, Sherlock. Before it’s too late.”  

_Too late for what?_

The idea of seeking Molly screamed loudly to him. He could finally meet her face-to-face for the first time. It would be damn awkward for sure but the truth was Sherlock wanted to see her, plain and simple. So instead of waiting passively, he should just go to her?  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should he?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing of Sherlock BBC and this story is loosely based on Your Name, a Japanese anime film.

Sherlock regretted not bothering to know the full address of Molly’s house but there was never a need to until now. The teenager packed a light bag before embarking on his journey. It was almost late noon when he found the place. Standing at the door, Sherlock suddenly felt apprehensive and a voice rescued him from the dilemma. “Hullo there, who are you looking for, son?”  

The teenager frowned and wondered if he went to the wrong house, “I’m looking for the Hooper family.” The elderly couple looked at him curiously before the husband replied, “We bought the house two years ago after the previous owner passed away.” Sherlock’s mind went blank as he scrambled for words, “What about the daughter? Do you know where she is now?” The burly man scratched his white whiskers while answering, “If my mind served me well, I think she went to live with her aunt,” and Sherlock nodded his thanks in disbelief.

_Two years ago? How could that be? I talked to him just two weeks ago! What is going on?_

Sherlock was trying to make sense of the bizarre situation but as he was walking away from the house, strangely yet surely, his memories of Molly were getting fainter and fainter. Soon, all of the teenager’s memories relating to her, Mr Hooper, Meena and his body swapping experience disappeared without a single trace. As far as he was concerned, Molly Hooper never existed. Sherlock then said bewilderedly, “What am I doing here?”

When the teenager returned home, he accidently spilled some chemicals, from one of his experiments, onto a notebook. Seeing that it was ruined beyond repair, Sherlock threw the notebook away and from that day on, he had the feeling that something was missing in his life.

* * *

 

_Nine years later_

Molly Hooper woke up extra early to avoid being late and making a bad impression on her first day of work. Excited by the new prospects, Molly crossed the road with a small smile. A cab stopped abruptly by the roadside and a man in his Belstaff coat got out of the vehicle. After her father’s death, Molly was aware of the persistent longing in her heart and believed it was because of him passing away just three months after he was diagnosed with a rare disease.

Aided by time, the wound in the shape of her father began to heal yet the anonymous yearning stubbornly remained in her heart as if she was still waiting for someone. Molly did not go back to the place where she used to live with her father but stayed in contact with Meena after she moved in with her aunt. Every time they met up, Meena always looked as though she had something to ask her yet whenever Molly probed; her friend would not say it, like she was afraid of opening up her old scars.

It was not that Molly was any braver; many of her things that she brought over from the house were still in her aunt’s attic, probably accumulating inches of dust on them from the years of neglect. Although Molly rarely recollected the darkest days of her life, she could not shake away the nagging feeling that she had forgotten something or to be precise, someone seemingly very important to her.

Sherlock Holmes, the world’s first and only consulting detective gazed at the petite lady with a ponytail. _Go after her._ A powerful voice in his mind palace commanded him and he found himself really pursuing that woman. _What_ _the hell? I don’t even know her!_ “Screw everything,” the consulting detective cursed and took off. Sherlock panicked when she entered the tube station and disappeared within the sea of commuters, all rushing to get to their workplace on time. The consulting detective could always give up now but he disregarded the voice of logic and jumped over the ticket gate.

The train arrived and everyone was in a hurry to board it. Sherlock eventually caught sight of the woman but before he could reach over to her side, the doors promptly closed after the customary warning was issued. Sherlock watched as the tube departed from the platform, feeling like a damn fool. “What were you thinking, Sherlock Holmes?” Clearly, the consulting detective was not because that was the most irrational thing he had ever done.

Molly saw a man who unfortunately missed his ride by a few seconds and for some reason, he monopolized her attention. Granted, the man was extremely attractive but it was not why she kept looking at him. Molly wanted to call out to that man but besides the fact that she did not even know him, not to mention his name, the doors were already closed. In a futile attempt, her hand stretched out and pressed lightly against the transparent window as the tube left the station.

Disconcerted, Molly frowned as she clutched the area where her heart resided and it was pounding painfully. _I need to find him_. She could not say why but Molly just knew that she needed to. Alighting at the next station, Molly took the tube that was going in the opposite direction, in hopes that the man was still there. As she was wandering around the station, Molly’s steps started to falter and she questioned herself, “What exactly are you doing, Molly Hooper?”

With a defeated sigh, Molly ended the silly little search and resumed her journey to work. “I’m so sorry that I’m late…” _I was trying to look for a man that I never met before_ “…I was stuck in the traffic jam. “ Her new superior responded kindly, “Don’t worry, you were not late, Molly. Come; let me show you around.”

“What is it, Lestrade?” Scowling, Sherlock enquired the Detective Inspector. Knowing the consulting detective well enough, Greg graciously excused his rude behaviour and answered, “What got your knickers in a twist, Sherlock? Who’s the one that screamed he was bored and to give him cases this very instant? Now, there’s one for you.” His phone rang and he signaled to the consulting detective for him to go to the morgue first.  

Sherlock pushed open the double doors and a woman in her white coat stood by the table, inspecting the tools. “I heard from Stamford that today there will be a new pathologist. I hope your supervisor had already told you about me and my unlimited access…” The consulting detective stopped in mid-sentence as he recognized, albeit a little bit slow, that the person he was talking to was actually the same woman he was pursuing in the morning.

Molly lifted her head and made eye contact with the man she was looking for earlier on. The word ‘surprise’ was grossly inadequate to describe what she was feeling now. “What are you doing here?” The pair asked at the same time then the both of them smiled embarrassedly. “I’m Sherlock Holmes, the world’s first and according to my knowledge, only consulting detective.” He extended his hand and spoke with pride.

“I’m Molly Hooper, the newest pathologist in St. Bart’s. Nice to meet you, Sherlock.” Their hands met and their hearts finally at ease for they had found each other. “Nice to meet you too, Molly.”

It was nice indeed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is a time-travelling body swap meaning each time Sherlock switched bodies with Molly, he actually travelled back in time so when he did go and find her (I'm so mean, sorry!), it was already two years later i.e. the present where Mr Hooper had long died and Molly gone. Rather convenient of me to make them lose memories of each other too (sorry again!) but they still met again in the end so please don't hate me, haha.
> 
> I always had fun when I write and this is NO exception. To each and every one of you that read the entire story, thank you so very much and I hope you enjoyed it :D


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